


Ritual

by maryfic



Series: 365 Scenes [18]
Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-03
Updated: 2015-05-03
Packaged: 2018-03-28 19:10:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3866479
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maryfic/pseuds/maryfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When madness is all around, sometimes only the ritual can keep it at bay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ritual

In the aftermath, Giles was never sure what got him home, after they had buried Buffy’s body in that quiet, cool place in the cemetery. He didn’t remember the soothing, no doubt comforting words he tried to find for the girls, for Dawn. But he did remember the raw, searing grief on Spike’s face when he saw Buffy’s body and remembered, quite clearly, the same exact feeling when he’d seen Jenny’s body, eagerly posed by a madman in his bed, years ago. 

He’d been left with no doubt that Spike had been terribly, irrevocably in love with Buffy in that moment. 

And now, alone in his apartment, surrounded by the things of his past and, no doubt, his future, the soothing ritual of tea was something he craved to make it through the next minute, the next few seconds of madness. 

Filling the kettle required little thought, more care as he lit the stove and stared into the waving blue flames that heated the water to the scalding temperature he approved of for tea.   
His fingers might have spilled a few leaves on the formica countertop as he scooped one, two, three spoons into the teapot. Puddles formed around the loose leaves when he spilled pouring the water, why didn’t they make the hole bigger anyway in teapots, really, he was just a man, he couldn’t be counted on for this sort of thing, this simple matter of keeping the people he loved safe and healthy and alive, and then he was turning off the stove and carrying the tray up the stairs, moving on autopilot into his bedroom. 

He poured the tea into the cup Jenny had given him, after the football game, his sexy fuddy-duddy mug, such an American gift, to drink tea from a mug instead of a proper cup, and he was leaning back on the bed, holding the warm porcelain and speaking aloud into the quiet of the dimly lit room. 

“Buffy’s dead.” It seemed like a ludicrous statement, his Slayer had died so many times before, more than any other Slayer,and there really should be an award for that, he mused. Perhaps something covered in glitter, Class Protector, World Savior, something nice and not so dreadfully final like a headstone. 

“She died saving her sister, her family, Rupert. That ought to count for something,” he heard from the windowsill. Jenny, his dear sweet gypsy girl, sat there, dark eyes sparkling sadly at him. 

It never occurred to him that she was dead. 

These conversations were a ritual, and ritual was soothing in times of chaos.

**Author's Note:**

> A writing exercise in which I attempt to write one small story each day of 2015. If you would like me to write a specific character/pairing/prompt, please leave a comment, thanks! Many fandoms/characters/pairings.


End file.
